


Classic

by DivineProjectZero



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, referenced domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineProjectZero/pseuds/DivineProjectZero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy’s just stepping into the film rental shop when he notices a tall, middle-aged man in a posh suit in one of the aisles, looking intently at the selection of films on the second-highest shelf. The romantic comedy section.</p><p>When Eggsy swivels around to mouth an incredulous <i>what the fuck?</i> at Jamal standing behind the counter, Jamal just shrugs back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Classic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimupf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimupf/gifts).



> Self-betaed and not Brit-picked. All mistakes are mine. Constructive feedback is always welcome.
> 
> Written for the Summer 2015 Hartwin Secret Santa, with the prompt being Eggsy and Harry meeting in a film rental shop.

Eggsy’s just stepping into the film rental shop when he notices a tall, middle-aged man in a posh suit in one of the aisles, looking intently at the selection of films on the second-highest shelf. The romantic comedy section.

When Eggsy swivels around to mouth an incredulous _what the fuck?_ at Jamal standing behind the counter, Jamal just shrugs back. 

Just then, the posh bloke selects a film and turns to go to the counter, and Eggsy gets a good look at him. Christ, he’s _fit_. Eggsy instinctively ducks into a different aisle to feign interest in—the slasher film section, great. The brunette bird browsing the selection there raises an eyebrow at him, then returns to reading the synopsis for…The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Jesus.

After Eggsy hears the bloke wish Jamal a good day in a voice like honey and leave the shop, he emerges from the aisle and walks up to Jamal. He pulls out the film case from his hoodie pocket and slides it across the counter. “What’s a posh bloke like that doin’ in this neighborhood?”

“No idea,” Jamal says. “Saw him last week, too. Keeps gettin’ those old chick flicks. Got Notting Hill today.”

“I ain’t judgin’ him for his taste in movies, but I sure as hell judgin’ him for coming here in the first place.” Eggsy crosses over to the other end of the shop and scans his usual shelf, snagging a case and bringing it to Jamal. “Bloke like that could probably afford buyin’ ‘em proper, instead of comin’ round to a shoddy place like this.”

“This shoddy place ain’t chargin’ you for your movies, bruv,” Jamal reminds him, scanning the case and then handing it back to Eggsy. “At least he’s a payin’ customer.”

Eggsy punches him playfully in the shoulder. “Yeah, thanks for that. Drinks on me this Friday.”

-

Truth be told, the only reason Eggsy keeps coming to the rental shop is because Jamal works there on Mondays and Thursdays, and he’s a real mate who’ll let Eggsy rent the movies for free without ever judging Eggsy’s taste in entertainment. He wouldn’t be able to afford renting films every week otherwise, and he can’t afford to waste cash on movies when Daisy needs diapers and new clothes. He can’t afford a lot of things, period. He can’t afford to fight back when Dean hits him. Can’t afford to raise his voice or run away or ask anybody for help. Can’t afford to get his mum and sis somewhere safe, away from Dean.

The films are an escape from that. From a life where he walks on eggshells around his bastard of a step-dad, a life where Eggsy hates himself sometimes. He watches them in the privacy of his room, sometimes with Daisy in his arms, sometimes all alone. His mum doesn’t ever watch them. They make her cry.

-

The next time Eggsy goes to the shop, he tosses Jamal the movie he’s returning and heads straight over to his shelf. He’s distracted; Dean had been intensely furious today, like a simmering potful of water waiting to be splashed over someone’s face. Eggsy’d been the one to be burned, and the left side of his face is sore and aching from the punch Dean had thrown. 

He’s planning to grab a new movie, slink back home before dinner because he knows Dean won’t be there at that time, and stay in for the night so that nobody has to see his bruised mess of a face. Jamal won’t ever say a word about Eggsy looking like a punching bag bursting at its seams, and Eggsy’d rather not have anybody get a good look at just what happens to Eggsy behind closed doors.

So he isn’t expecting the sudden movement beside him or a low, honey-sweet voice saying, “I’d recommend An Affair to Remember, but I have a feeling that you’ve already seen it.”

Eggsy jolts, turning to see the posh bloke from last time standing right next to him. From up close, he’s gorgeous, with his hair coiffed and face lined with age in a dignified manner. Definitely old enough to be Eggsy’s dad. 

Definitely attractive enough for Eggsy to not give a fuck about his age, anyway.

“Any other recommendations?” Eggsy says, promptly biting down on the dirtier suggestions that are just begging to be blurted out. He’s not sure if a bloke like this would go for crass and eager. 

Except, Eggsy’s obviously an idiot who forgot that he was punched in the face less than an hour ago, and the fit bloke’s eyebrows furrow a bit, his hand twitching forward as if tempted to cup Eggsy’s face, and he asks, “I could recommend a doctor to take a look at that, if you like.”

Remembering what his face looks like right now, Eggsy flushes hot with embarrassment, taking a step back and fighting the urge to duck his head and cover up his bruised cheek and split lip. “Ain’t any of your business, bruv.”

“I, well.” The stranger clears his throat and offers a hand. “I’m terribly sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Harry Hart, and I’m a doctor.”

“Eggsy Unwin,” Eggsy says, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it warily. Then, “You’re a doctor?”

“Unless I’ve mistaken my job for the past thirty-one years,” Harry Hart says with dry amusement, and Christ, Eggsy wasn’t even _born_ thirty-one years ago. Not that he can really bring himself to care, not when the slight upwards curve to Harry’s lips is the most mesmerizing thing he’s seen all year, and that’s including Casablanca. Which was pretty damn amazing, in Eggsy’s book. “Would you like me to take a look?” 

Eggsy squashes the temptation to say _yes please_ or _I’ve always wanted to play doctor_ or _actually, would you mind giving me a full body examination while I’m naked and in your bed_ and instead says, “I’m fine. It’s nothin’ I can’t handle.”

God, Eggsy cannot believe that his _pride_ is cockblocking him right now, of all things.

Harry blinks, then says, “Alright, then.” He hesitates, just a hopeful millisecond where Eggsy thinks Harry might make a slightly different offer so Eggsy can follow him out of the shop and maybe get on his knees, but instead he says, “Have you seen Roman Holiday?”

Dumbfounded, Eggsy replies honestly: “Not yet.”

“You should.” With that, Harry steps away. “Take care of yourself, Eggsy. And if you ever need it, come by the Kingsman Clinic and ask for me, alright?”

With that said, Harry leaves. Later, when Jamal’s scanning Roman Holiday and handing the DVD case to Eggsy, he finds out that Harry’s rental of the day is My Best Friend’s Wedding.

The idea of Harry, a doctor of the local posh clinic who wears presumably tailored suits even to film rentals, watching romantic comedy films when he’s not on duty—it’s kind of sweet. Doubly so because of how unexpected it is, the gap between Harry’s looks as a posh old man who looks like a runway model and his taste in films. Charming, even.

The whole time Eggsy’s watching Audrey Hepburn smile on the screen, he’s thinking back to a warm voice with dark brown eyes.

-

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Eggsy jokes when he runs into Harry again. Harry’s holding the DVD case for On Her Majesty’s Secret Service this time, which makes Eggsy’s eyebrows go up. “No missus to tell you to bring back a romance flick this time?”

“There never was a missus,” Harry says, which Eggsy’d guessed from the lack of a ring, but it was always best to make sure. “I’m renting these for my own entertainment.”

Eggsy’s face is back to its unbruised self, so he feels a little more confident about cocking his head just so to emphasize the stretch of his neck when he purrs, “I can think of more entertaining things.”

“Pray tell, what things would be more entertaining than a classic Bond film?” Harry asks, bemused. An entirely neutral reaction to Eggsy’s provocation. Damn.

Eggsy firmly bites down on the urge to say _me_. “RED, the one with Bruce Willis, for one.” 

“A fine choice, although I’ve already seen it,” Harry says. “Might you have any other recommendations for me?”

Eggsy spends the next fifteen minutes taking Harry through the more recent action films, giving his opinions until Harry relents and accepts the burden of renting out The Bourne Identity along with his original pick. In exchange, Harry recommends a few more romance films, both classic and modern, so that Eggsy finally makes up his mind to give You’ve Got Mail a shot. 

By the time Harry’s left, leaving Eggsy his number so they can text their opinions about the movies to each other, Eggsy’s pretty sure that he’s just made a friend. A friend with the potential to become something more. 

“Just ask him for a movie date already,” the slasher movie aficionado brunette—Jamal later whispers that her name is Gazelle—tells him. “I’m tired of hearing you two flirt over boring movies.”

-

“Please just stop trying to film your own rom-com with a man twice your age and just ask him out,” Roxy says over the phone. It’s like he’s experiencing déjà vu. “He even gave you his number and his workplace address. Go shag him.”

“You sound exactly like—I think I found your mental doppelgänger,” Eggsy says.

-

Over the next month, Eggsy finds himself going to the rental shop not because of the free movies or Jamal, but because he wants to see Harry. They text after watching their rented films, sending each other their reviews and exchanging opinions about actors and plotholes. Once, they spend nearly two hours arguing over the Skyfall and the concept of the traditional versus the modern. It’s possibly the best argument Eggsy’s ever had. 

Their texts increase, with mundane messages about their everyday lives and the weather and random things like _so do you think peanut butter would go well with strawberries?_ Sometimes they share the more important things, like how one of Harry’s friends died recently in an accident or how Eggsy’s step-dad seems more and more on edge lately. Harry tells him over text that he likes romantic comedies and old spy films because they’re often ludicrous and bright, devoid of the gritty, bleak reality that used to be Harry’s life as a trauma surgeon. Eggsy tells Harry in a hushed tone in the corner of the film rental that his mum and dad used to watch classical romance films together, with him sitting between them, until his dad died and his mum never watched any classics ever again.

Meeting at the rental shop every Monday and Thursday is a silent agreement between them, like a standing date of sorts, and at this point the obvious next step is to coyly ask Harry if he’d like some late night company to watch a movie together, preferably at Harry’s place, and then find out if Harry’s the filthy kind of kisser that Eggsy’s been fantasizing him to be. 

Except—

They always text and never call. They meet in the shop but never elsewhere. Eggsy could always try dialing Harry first, could always suggest continuing their conversation at a nearby cafe or pub, but he never does, because he’s not really sure if Harry’s just being kind, just enjoying having a friend in what seems like an otherwise unsocial, busy life. 

The thing is, it’s not just about lust anymore. Eggsy is _friends_ with Harry now. He _cares_ about Harry. And Eggsy doesn’t think he can handle it if he lost Harry just because Harry didn’t reciprocate his feelings.

-

Of all the reasons for Eggsy to see Harry somewhere other than at the rental shop, it’s _Dean_ that does the trick.

Eggsy stumbles into the Kingsman Clinic with Roxy and Ryan close behind him, Roxy carrying Daisy and Ryan supporting Eggsy’s mum. They’re all waiting in an awkward group to be called in when all the hair on the nape of Eggsy’s neck stands at the voice from behind him. 

“Eggsy?”

Harry Hart looks at Eggsy cradling his arm and his mum limping awkwardly to Daisy, and he looks so worried that Eggsy can’t help it; he tells Harry that he’d come home to see Dean shoving his mum down a flight of stairs, and when Eggsy’d flung himself at the bastard he’d been tackled sideways arm-first into a railing by Rottweiler. 

There’s this calm look of fury on Harry’s face when he instructs one of the nurses to please take Eggsy’s mum to see Dr. Alastair and Eggsy to Dr. Merlin. He promises that Eggsy’s mum will be in good hands and assures him that Dr. Merlin is a good friend and esteemed colleague. 

“Please, don’t be stubborn and do as he says,” Harry tells him, a warm hand cupping Eggsy’s uninjured elbow.

“Yeah, okay.” Eggsy tries not to shake with relief, or want, or whatever it is that washes over him, resettling his bones and reverberating through his blood. 

If his life were a movie, he might’ve called it love.

-

Just before they leave the clinic, Jamal calls Eggsy saying that he just finished his work shift and came to the estate to find out that Dean and his lot had just been dragged off by the police, locked up with some hefty charges against them. Hefty enough to practically guarantee that they stayed locked up.

Trembling with relief, Michelle leans on her crutches and cries against Eggsy’s shoulder, and Eggsy takes slow breaths, his heart beating fast, daring to believe that things might get better.

-

Eggsy doesn’t manage to see Harry after Dr. Merlin announces that Eggsy has a fractured humerus—upper arm bone, he translates when Eggsy just stares blankly—and needs to keep his arm in a hanging arm cast. He texts Harry about the diagnosis and that his mum has a sprained ankle and a concussion, and also gives Harry his profuse thanks for taking care of them.

Nearly five hours later, there’s still no reply from Harry. From a man who replies to his texts usually within an hour, that’s not a good sign.

Possibly, Eggsy’s broken some kind of rule. Maybe showing up at Harry’s workplace was Harry’s wakeup call, and now he realizes he doesn’t want to be associated with a chav half his age from a broken family in the estates. Maybe Harry doesn’t want to be Eggsy’s friend anymore.

Or maybe his phone battery’s dead.

“Fuck it,” Eggsy decides, and dials Harry’s number. If Harry doesn’t want to see Eggsy again, then Eggsy’s got nothing to lose. If Harry just happened to not notice Eggsy’s texts, then he can damn well understand Eggsy calling him, especially after he’s already seen the mess Eggsy was.

On the third ring, Harry picks up. “Eggsy.”

“You didn’t reply to my texts,” Eggsy says. He doesn’t ask if Harry’d seen them; he has a more important question to ask. “Harry, why did you make Dr. Merlin treat me?”

“Because he was available, Eggsy,” Harry says. He sounds tired.

“So were you.”

There’s a long pause, and Eggsy knows this is the moment the balance will tip. Either Harry’s going to say goodbye and hang up, never speak to Eggsy again, or Harry’s going to say something monumentally important and it’ll be up to Eggsy to meet him halfway. He’s holding his breath when Harry finally sighs and gives in.

“I can’t be your doctor.”

That doesn’t sound promising. “Why not?”

Harry makes a cut-off, angry sound, and Eggsy wishes he could see Harry’s face. Understand what was going on. “It would be inappropriate, Eggsy.”

“Because you’re my friend?” Eggsy asks.

“Because I’m hoping we could be more than that,” Harry says.

Oh thank _fuck._ Eggsy tries to not float off of his bed in sheer giddiness. He tries not to sound too breathless when he says, “You could stop hoping and start _doing_ , you know?”

After what feels like a lifetime, Harry says, “Eggsy, would you like to meet me at the rental shop tomorrow so we can pick out a film that we can watch at my home? I’d like to treat you to a dinner and a movie, and perhaps a night in my bed.”

“I’d like that,” Eggsy says, grinning.

-

Eggsy gets there five minutes before Harry does, so he fills Jamal in about how he has a date with Harry now. A date that’s going to last all night long, Eggsy hopes. 

Gazelle, who’s renting A Nightmare on Elm Street 2, snorts. “Finally.”

“Thanks for the support,” Eggsy tells her. She smirks and walks out just as Harry walks in, and Eggsy is struck by the urge to fling himself into Harry’s arms. He restrains himself if only because his fractured arm might not appreciate the impact of it. Instead, he follows Harry into the middle aisle, in front of the rom-com section, and basks in the affection in Harry’s smile. “Hey.”

“Hello, Eggsy.” Harry strokes his fingertips down Eggsy’s cheek, like he’s wanted to do that all along. Possibly, he has. Eggsy remembers how Harry’s offered to have a look at Eggsy’s face, back when they didn’t even know each other’s names.

“What do you wanna watch for our first official date?” Eggsy asks. He doesn’t want to get to soppy right in public, what with Jamal being only around the corner. “Have anything special in mind?”

Harry chuckles, drawing away from Eggsy for a short moment, then pulling out his selection for the day. “I remember you said you’ve never seen Pretty Woman.”

“Hmm, seems a bit unfair that you’ve already watched it, though.” Eggsy pauses. “You said you never watched My Fair Lady, right?”

“I never _finished_ watching it,” Harry corrects him, indulgent as he follows Eggsy to the aisle containing the classics. “A double feature tonight, then. We could rent one more, since we’ll have all night.” 

The implications in that last sentence make Eggsy’s insides shiver in a pleasant way, just like how the extra set of clothes and the other utilities he brought in his overnight bag make him heady with anticipation. He takes an extra step into Harry’s space, reveling in the way Harry’s eyes go dark and hungry. “I have other plans than just watching movies with you.”

“No doubt you do.” Harry’s mouth is a satisfied curl that makes the lines of his face deepen in an absurdly attractive way. “I think you’re the best thing I’ve gotten out of coming to this rental shop.”

“I’m not for rent,” Eggsy teases. He reaches over and drags his fingertips down Harry’s palm, lets Harry catch his hand and entwine their fingers.

“Good,” Harry says. Brushes his lips against the back of Eggsy’s hand. “I don’t intend on returning you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> writing tumblr: [divineprojectzero](http://divineprojectzero.tumblr.com)  
> main tumblr: [listentotheshityousay](http://listentotheshityousay.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [@listento_yousay](http://twitter.com/listento_yousay)


End file.
